


Hisses and Kisses

by larissalee



Series: The Naga Potion [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Fic, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissalee/pseuds/larissalee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Weasley had a comfortable life and a deft hand with dragon healing that he'd been thinking to explore. Instead, a vampire dropped off a laboring Hermione Granger in his living room. </p><p>Faced with a wary family friend and a newborn baby, Charlie will offer Hermione the support and secrecy she needs to return to life in the wizarding world. </p><p>After all, what are friends for?</p><p>BACK IN BUSINESS: I've been super lazy and busy with life stuff, like ya do, so I just now decided to dust off my fanfic notes and write some more. Sorry for the long wait! (02/18/2017)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of Ouroboros (finally). The rating is based on tentative plans for later scenes, because better safe than sorry, right?

“You can bloody well stop it, Norberta!” Charlie ducked an angry tail swipe and rolled behind the warded corner of the nesting pit. The moody dragon hissed and spat a pitiful stream of sparks and hot air in his direction, giving temporary light to the darkness around them. His heart broke a little when she mewled. 

“I know, love.” He edged forward, his free hand palm up as a sign of submission. Norberta snorted, her runny nose billowing a glittery burst of lilac smoke. “I promise I can help if you just let me cast the spells.” He crept closer, the dragon tracking his movements without further aggression; he’d be surprised if she had the energy to do much more than growl at this point. 

As he reached her snout, Charlie stroked a gentle caress across the ridges of her nostrils. Norberta gave him a rumbling purr, lowering her head closer to the source of relief. While she remained passive and distracted, he quietly cast the prescribed spells Healer Creston had ordered. A half-lidded opalescent eye watched him work, blinking lazily as the magic washed over its owner and triggered an enormous yawn full of tongue and teeth. 

He ignored the shouts of warning from behind the wards, finishing his work methodically before stepping back. Norberta snored through her stuffy nose, shimmering snot no longer oozing everywhere. Bloody hell! Dragons were the worst patients! 

Charlie swept the beads of sweat from his brow as he carefully exited the corral. The others on his wrangling team jostled for a chance to talk, but he shrugged them off and headed straight to Healer Creston. “Did I cast them right? Will she be okay?”

“Your plan was shite, but I’m impressed. The Ridgeback should recover in a couple of days, though I’d still recommend quarantine for the full two weeks.” Creston smirked at the stunned looks around them. 

“Blimey! You sure that rabbit’s foot your da sent isn’t secretly magical?” Maclaurin punched Charlie in the arm none too gently. “‘Bout time you asked him for a couple dozen extras!”

Rolling his eyes, he returned the jab with a hard elbow to the ribs. “Shut it! You’re just jealous of my innate skills.”

“With what, angry female creatures?”

The crowd broke into rowdy laughter, but Charlie cast a quick silencing spell to protect Norberta’s sleep from disruption. After all, he knew for a fact she’d been awake with this ‘glitteritis’ infection for about a week straight; he spent more time with her than most, since she had a habit of trying to eat everyone else for dinner. 

He blamed Hagrid for her weirdness. 

It was ages before Charlie managed to convince his team to leave off so he could get some sleep. They wanted to celebrate his success and survival of treating the dragon’s illness, preferably with a bottle or two of firewhiskey. The sober silence of his quarters relieved tension he hadn’t noticed he was carrying. Now it was time for a long, hot shower and a long, hard sleep. His shirt hit the laundry bin just as a knock sounded on the door. Irritated, he didn’t bother to refasten his buckle before jerking it open. 

“Good evening, Mr. Weasley.”

She was not the visitor he’d expected. Definitely not. 

Charlie automatically stepped out of her way when the slender woman entered his quarters. Her body moved with a familiar, unnatural stillness. Okay, this wasn’t good. Why was a vampire in his quarters, at night, alone? Her long hair hung in an intricate braid down her back, resting against what looked like silk robes. He cringed as he redid his pants and ran a hand through his ash-coated hair. 

The silence was killing him. “So…”

“Ah, yes. My name is Annabelle Camarilla.” She spoke with a small dip of her head at her introduction. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I haven’t the time for pleasantries.” 

“What’s wrong?” Charlie met her gaze, worry creasing his brow. Why would a vampire seek out a dragonkeeper? He didn’t think they interacted with other creatures outside of dinner. 

Annabelle seemed to hear his thoughts. “There is no dragon, only… a friend. She requires medical assistance, but we cannot provide it. Nor can she go to a hospital, I’m afraid. Would you help her?”

“I’m not a Healer, ma’am. But I can get Creston. He-”

“No!” She cut him off, her eyes flashing a warning. Calmer, she shook her head. “No, we need you, Mr. Weasley. I believe you’ll keep her secret, and she already trusts you enough to allow you close.” When he hesitated, the vampire bowed her head. “Please. I would remain by her side if I could, but I’m sure you understand why a vampire cannot attend to certain medical situations safely? I don’t want to hurt her.” 

Ever the idiot, Charlie nodded. “Alright. Take me to her, then?”

* * *

An hour later, he started to reconsider his offer. Annabelle had told him to stay put and get washed up; after all, Healers needed to be clean to work, right? She’d promised to return with her friend, whoever it was, and arranged to return by portkey any minute now. 

Charlie skimmed over the book he had on healing spells, a well-worn tome he’d received one year from Hermione as a Christmas present. The clever girl had written that she’d thought a dragonkeeper might need more than a simple bandage now and again. Of course, she’d been right. His musings were interrupted by a loud pop and angry hissing in the front room. Rushing out, he froze at the sight before him. 

“Hermione?”

His hushed whisper made her turn, eyes meeting across the room. Charlie took in her sweat-dampened curls and round belly before widening. She looked… well. He’d heard about her disappearance after the defeat of Voldemort, an act Harry had explained when they’d all gathered for his birthday months ago. She’d saved them all, and then she ran. 

And here she was. Pregnant. In labor. Bloody hell, he wasn’t trained for this!

Annabelle kept a firm hand around Hermione’s arm, preventing her from rushing out into the night. The vampire ignored the angry hissing in favor of addressing Charlie. “You’ll help her?”

Eyeing the way Hermione panted and struggled to bite her supposed friend, he frowned. Her behavior reminded him of a clutching mother dragon before the laying of eggs, all spitfire and protective fear. From the shimmer along her temples and the sputtering, he assumed she still suffered from that cursed potion. What kind of birth would a naga-woman have? 

Charlie realized they didn’t have time for him to think on it. Hermione whimpered as another contraction hit, and he rushed to slide a supporting arm around her body as she sagged. He’d transfigured a hospital bed out of his couch, something he was immensely glad for as he helped the pregnant witch onto it carefully. Annabelle edged toward the door, her delicate fingers tight enough on the doorframe to crack the wood. 

Shit, blood! Right! Birth was a bloody mess, regardless of the species. He gave her a stern glare. “Go. Now!” 

The vampire darted out without a word, and Charlie threw up the nesting wards they usually cast around the sandpits of mother dragons. They served a dual purpose, keeping the mothers contained and predators out. 

A keening cry drew his attention back to Hermione. Outside, he could hear Norberta crooning in return. The noise rumbled through the earth, low and steady in its insistent comfort. Well, the dragon’s equivalent. 

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The sun was well and truly up when all was said and done. Hermione slept, clean and exhausted. She’d said little, at least in English, but she’d settled down enough after her initial resistance to safely birth her child. 

Charlie cradled the tiny baby in his arms, more than a little familiar with the handling of little ones. She didn’t have a name yet, the poor thing. He tucked her into a cushioned bassinet he’d created out of an old box, the newborn oddly quiet and disarmingly adorable. 

Damn babies, always so ridiculously hard to resist! 

He considered lifting the wards, but it was probably better that he leave them in place. Considering how she’d run in the first place, the thought that Hermione might try to take off the minute she woke wasn’t all that far fetched. They needed to talk, though, and he wasn’t above using Weasley trickery and charm to get his way. 

Now well beyond tired himself, Charlie floated the baby’s bassinet into his bedroom. He couldn’t imagine leaving the little one unattended with its mother, especially remembering how hard his own mother always slept after a magic-assisted birth. He’d just have to play babysitter as well. No big deal. 

Charlie plopped onto his bed and sunk into a light sleep, his ears attuned to the newborn’s quiet breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Shit! 

She shifted, stifling a groan at the still present aches of her body. Magic was marvelous, of course, but it couldn’t negate the fact she’d given birth to another being. Her eyes scanned the room, mild panic fluttering in her chest. The baby? 

Where was her baby?

Ignoring her own pain, Hermione forced herself up from the small cot. Charlie had been helpful, just as Annabelle had promised. The vampire had lied by omission, obviously, failing to mention the Healer she’d found was a familiar face. Just wait until Hermione got back… 

Well, if she went back. 

She shook her head to clear the groggy circles in her logic as she stumbled toward the bedroom tucked down the small hallway at the back of the small shack. Her fingers caught the doorframe to keep her standing as her strength failed her. Damn it! 

A soft gurgle made her gasp, her attention drawn to a small bassinet beside Charlie’s bed. She moved forward automatically. Tucked between soft cushioning charms was the smallest thing she’d seen in a long time, sporting an unsurprisingly full head of hair that already showed signs of twisting curl. Hermione swept her sweet little baby up into her arms, hissing to her softly when she seemed ready to cry. **::Hush now, sweetie. We’re okay, aren’t we?::**

Charlie stirred, reaching groggily into the bassinet only to find it empty. His waking mind seemed to struggle before he saw her, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Hermione?”

**::Sorry, I woke alone and-::** She cut off mid-explanation as she realized her mistake, his face a mess of confusion. Clearing her throat, she frowned. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

“No, it’s… that’s fine, I just figured you’d be out for a while longer.” He ran a rough hand over his ginger mess and glanced at the window. 

Hermione shrugged. “I… Thank you, Charlie. For helping me. Us.” She smiled down at her daughter with a happy warmth in her heart. They stayed suspended in silence, and she couldn’t help but dread the questions she knew he’d ask any minute. After all, she hadn’t told anyone about her pregnancy; the first questions would obvious cover the awkward truths, like who the father was and why he wasn’t there to help and why she’d run away without any warning and-

“Do you have a name for her?”

The question made her glance up to study Charlie’s face. He’d moved, his legs tossed over the side of his bed so he could sit facing them. She smiled down at the tiny thing in her arms. “I was thinking… Roselyn. My little Rose.”

“That’s fitting, I think.” He stood, stretching until his back cracked loudly. “Look, Hermione…”

Here it was. The interrogation. She mentally braced herself. 

“...you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. I mean it. I know you obviously needed space, to run all the way here. I get it, I really do. Just take whatever time you need, okay?” His eyes met hers, then drifted over Rose’s sleeping form. “A vampire’s nest in the middle of Romania isn’t exactly the ideal place for a newborn.” 

**::Neither is a dragon reserve,::** she huffed to herself. 

He raised a brow. “I recognize that tone, you know. Norberta gives me the same snark when I tell her something obvious. I know, staying around a bunch of dragons isn’t much safer for a baby, but still… at least I don’t bite?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.”

* * *

The rest of the day had gone by quietly, between feeding Rose and reading a few chapters of a dragonkeeping manual Charlie had tucked on his shelves. She watched the sunset with an ear on the door, hoping a certain someone would keep her promises. 

A knock sounded minutes after the light disappeared fully, announcing the arrival of Annabelle. “I’ll get it!” Charlie shouted from the bedroom. He ambled out of his room to answer it, opening the door wide once he saw the vampire’s face. “Welcome back, I guess. You haven’t got another one tucked away to dump in my lap now, do you?”

His playful tone made Annabelle raised a brow before answering. “Oh? But you’ve clearly done right by our Hermione.”

They both slipped into the cabin, closing the door as they settled around the small living room. Hermione gave her friend a sharp glare before smiling and drawing the blankets from Rose’s face. “He did well by us both, so I’ll forgive you for your trickery.”

“Of course,” she replied with a bow. Annabelle looked unrepentant. “I knew he’d be the best choice. Between his healing talents and his ability to handle moody beasts…”

“Watch it!” They jostled each other with fit of giggles, causing Rose to stir in her arms. Charlie seemed to find their exchange amusing, his eyes crinkling in response. Hermione realized he had to leave for her to ask the questions she really needed answered. Or did he? Considering the fact he’d already become privy to her situation and location, what more could it harm for him to know the rest? 

Resolved, she ran a finger over her baby’s nose before murmuring. “Is she human, Annabelle?”

Charlie jerked in his seat, but the vampire sighed. “Let me hold her?” Rose was passed from one set of arms to another, Annabelle cradling the newborn carefully as she nuzzled her hair. Hermione saw Charlie grow pale, but he remained still, almost holding his breath as her friend sniffed along Rose’s neck. Their eyes met over the baby. 

“Human, mostly.” 

Hermione let out a relieved huff. “Mostly? I suppose that’s the best we could hope for?”

“Yes, sweetie. Your little one will be normal enough to hide amongst wizards or Muggles, if that’s what you want. Though I imagine she’ll gain something from your naga side. Perhaps sharper teeth or parseltongue? She smells like rain, a much milder scent than your own.” 

Charlie interrupted, a hand on her arm and an odd look in his eyes. “Do you plan on taking off again, Hermione?”

She started to protest, but Annabelle distracted her by returning Rose. Her fangs glinted in the light as she eyed Charlie. “I hoped you could talk sense into her where we could not.”

“Annabelle!”

“Don’t ‘Annabelle’ me!” She pouted, but the effect was ruined by the grin twitching her lips. “I simply wish you would consider returning to England. I’m sure they’ve missed you these past months.” Her cool hand brushed Hermione’s cheek with affection. “I know you’ve missed them.”

She bowed her head, throat thick with emotion. Hermione knew it was time to stop running, but it was so much easier to stay with the Camarilla brood, to study ancient texts and laugh with those who had no reason to expect anything from her. She could be whoever she wanted in Romania, but in England she’d be one of the Golden Trio again, the one who finally killed Voldemort. 

Oh, Tom. She hated thinking about any of it, and returning home would mean facing constant reminders of the worst day of her life. 

Charlie’s quiet words broke through her morose thoughts. “You don’t have to do anything right now, you know. You and Rose can stay here as long as you need; I won’t tell anyone. Take the time you need to figure things out.”

Annabelle gave him an assessing look. “Yes… listen to your friend here. He clearly has your best interests in mind.”

The pressure building in Hermione’s chest eased at their words. They were right. She had time to decide what came next for her and for Rose.

* * *

Three nights later, she made up her mind. Hermione sent one last letter to Harry, with Annabelle’s stealthy help. She knew he’d read between the lines and see that she was coming home. Not yet, but soon. Maybe.

_Harry,_

_Things have changed for me, and I have a favor to ask._

_Can you retrieve a copy of the research and final recipe for the potion? You know the one, I’m sure. I’d like a chance to study it myself, perhaps even better it with my in-depth knowledge of my own naga physiology. We both know I wasn’t involved in the original research process._

_I can’t make any promises. But if you can do me this favor, I may be willing to return home. No, I won’t tell you where I am right now. And no, you can’t trace this letter either. You know the drill! I’m safe, healthy, and happy - let that be enough for now._

_Attach the return portkey to your response, as usual. And no, it won’t work for anything but a bundle of papers. Be patient, Harry. Help me find my answers, and I’ll give you yours._

_Love,  
Hermione_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from hiatus, sorry for the long wait! I'll update as my schedule permits, now that I'm back in the writing groove.

The shrill buzz of his wand made Charlie roll off his couch with a thud. He slapped off the alarm with a yawn, climbing off the floor. He’d gotten used to sharing his small home with Hermione and sweet little Rose, but his sleeping brain still hadn’t gotten the memo on the altered sleeping arrangements. A week of waking on the floor was not doing anything for his aching back. 

Maybe it was time for a new couch? 

Charlie considered ways he could transfigure something comfier as he shuffled quietly toward the bathroom. His morning routine took only a few minutes after years on the reserve, allowing him plenty of time for his real love: a proper cuppa. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, he paused when the scent of strong tea and toast wafted by. Hermione was up early again, it seemed. He entered the kitchen to a now familiar sight, the entire dining table covered in parchments and books while a certain witch scratched away in her notes. Charlie only had to tell her to use whatever space she needed once, after watching her struggling to dig through piles of random notes and scraps, and she’d taken him at his word. Her research now spread itself across the table and sometimes parts of the kitchen floor. 

Hermione only glanced up from her work when he set about cooking bacon. “Oh, good morning! How long have you…?”

“Been moving around your brilliance? Just a few minutes.” He smirked at her wrinkled nose, enjoying the way she reacted to his teasing. They were finally settling into something more like friendship, rather than an awkward pair of strangers tiptoeing around each other. She seemed less skittish since Rose’s birth the week before. 

As was their pattern, Hermione shuffled her notes around as Charlie put together a few breakfast sammies. She refilled their cups, adding a heap of sugar to his with a wince. They dug in quietly, the dawn’s light just starting to peek through the kitchen window. Norberta would need looking into, Charlie knew. The spells for her condition would’ve worn off overnight again, but hopefully she’d be in a better mood this time around. 

A man could dream.

* * *

Dragons. 

It had to be dragons. 

He couldn’t work with unicorns or puffskeins or kneazles. No, that’d be boring. Too easy. 

Charlie trudged to the door in a foul mood. Sunset had come and gone, and Norberta had barely settled down for the night after a dozen carefully layered charms. He should’ve asked Healer Creston to come by, or maybe the team. But no, he’d told them things were handled.

Yanking open the door, Charlie barely resisted slamming it in frustration. The baby. Right. He closed it with a quiet click, exhaustion flooding his body as he rested his forehead against the door. He could probably sleep right there if he wanted to. 

“Charlie? Is everything alright?”

Hermione’s soft inquiry made him grunt in reply. “Ugh. Ever think you’ve made a really stupid life choice?”

She didn’t respond, instead lighting the room with a gentle flick of her wand. Her gasp made him straighten up and turn. “Are you… Is that glitter? Why are you covered in glitter? And who hit you?”

Her hand cupped his chin before he could blink, gently turning his head so she could examine the bruise forming along his right cheek. It twinged from the movement, and his hiss of pain made her drop her hand. Charlie moved stiffly into the living room but made no move to sit; the glitter had to go first, or he’d never be rid of it. 

Peeling off his boots, he explained what he could. “Norberta’s caught a bad case of tectorum pulmonem that just won’t clear up. It’s a dragon disease, goes by-”

“Glitteritis?” Hermione banished as much of the residue from his boots as she could before tucking them away. He smiled in thanks, but he was pretty sure it came across as more of a grimace. “I read about it, in that book on dragon tamer techniques. The healing chapter had this intriguing diagram of a Peruvian Vipertooth’s dental impressions before and after exposure to calcium-rich nutrient additives…” She trailed off as she realized she was rambling, an embarrassed look crossing her face. 

“Yeah, that’d be the one. Everyone thinks it’s a good laugh, but it’s called Shattered Lungs for a reason.” Charlie continued talking as he headed toward the bathroom, shucking his dirty work robes into a special containment bin behind the door. “This bloody glitter hurts coming out. Norberta can’t help but be nasty about it.” 

Cool fingers pressed against his shoulder. “Hold still,” Hermione murmured. A cabinet opened and closed before she began rubbing along one of the various bruises gained from the dragon. The bruise paste instantly took away some of the ache, making Charlie groan and sag against the bathroom counter with relief. 

“At least you know how to be a good patient,” she quipped as she capped the tin of paste and met his gaze in the mirror. “Now, wash off this glittery grime while I make you a nightcap.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” With a snort, he watched Hermione as she left to fix him whatever magical remedy she had up her sleeve. 

The shower really did work wonders, rinsing away some of his exhaustion as well as the contaminants from the sick dragon. Charlie tugged on sweatpants and toweled his hair dry as he wandered down the hall. A quick peek in the bedroom ensured Rose slept on peacefully; she was a surprisingly well-behaved baby, and she slept like a rock. 

Small mercies. 

Hermione sat at the mostly cleared off table, two cups steaming on its surface. Charlie sat across from her, accepting his own cup without question. It smelled nice, not like some of the potions he’d taken for nights like this. A cautious sip told him the smell matched the taste. “Hmph, you’re good.”

“At what?”

“Hiding medicine,” he replied as he drank more deeply. 

She shrugged, tucking a piece of her wild hair behind her ear. “Muggles have their own aromatherapy and herbalism cures, many of which align with wizarding methods. I just… combine the options in ways that don’t involve noxious ingredients.” 

“Right. Well, I was going to call it magic, but…” He accepted a kick to the shin with a laugh. “Alright, alright! But still, thank you. I don’t suppose muggles have some special dragon cures hidden away that you could suggest?” 

He’d been joking, of course, but Hermione’s expression flickered before she looked away, her hands twisting in her lap. Charlie waited, not sure why she’d reacted to his comment that way. When she met his eyes again, he could tell she was afraid. “What if… What if I could help?”

“You aren’t trained, Hermione. I know you’ve read the books, but-”

“No, I know that. I mean, what if I could do something to soothe Norberta for you? Before you treated her, maybe? You could avoid coming home in such a state.”

Charlie hesitated. He wouldn’t normally consider letting someone untrained anywhere near a sick dragon, but Hermione had never been a normal witch. Ignoring his concern, he decided to take a chance. “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

The plans were set. 

Hermione contacted her vampire friend Annabelle, asking her to come by the next evening to watch Rose while they worked. 

Charlie checked in with Healer Creston and his team, ensuring them that he had things under control and didn’t need assistance in wrangling Norberta just yet. Creston had been surprised but willing to let Charlie make that call if he felt it was best. 

Sprawled across his lumpy couch, Charlie struggled to fall asleep, his tender muscles begging for a chance to treat Norberta without a tuck-and-roll across rocky terrain or a tail to the side in retaliation. He could only hope Hermione’s plan would work, for all their sakes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in updating. You know how it goes, fickle muses and adulting.

Hermione kissed Rose softly before tucking the sleeping baby back into her basket. She could hear murmured conversation from the living room, Annabelle and Charlie chatting while they waited. He’d seemed surprised when the vampire immediately agreed with their plan, but Hermione knew Annabelle trusted her judgment. 

If she could survive the twisted plans of a broken man, she could survive a sick dragon. 

The twinge of hurt at the thought of Tom was brutally pushed away as Hermione grabbed the spare cloak Charlie had given her. The dragonskin would protect her if Norberta got too close, at least partially. Wrapping it around her body, Hermione snorted at the pooling fabric around her feet. As it was resistant to magic, she used a carefully applied sticking charm to fold the bottom on itself until it no longer dragged like a train behind her steps. It would hold. 

Slipping out of the bedroom quietly, she joined the others in the living room. “Are we ready to go?” Hermione twisted her hair up into a quick bun, hoping it would cooperate and stay put for once. 

Annabelle smirked at the way Charlie stopped mid-sentence. He blinked, a strange look passing over his face before he nodded. “Yes, we’re good to go. I think. Yeah.” 

With a raised brow, Hermione gestured toward the door. They both stood there for a moment, until Charlie seemed to realize he was just standing there staring at her. He flushed as he quickly ducked out into the night. 

Annabelle’s laughter followed them out as the door shut behind them.

* * *

Magical torches lit the edges of Norberta’s enclosure, the light flickering softly across the small space. Remnants of glitter sparkled across the ground, making Hermione cringe in sympathy. She hoped their plan worked, if only to soothe the poor dragon’s pain for a while. 

Charlie came to a stop at the edge of the pen. “Alright, she tends to tuck away under that rocky alcove at night. Feels safer, I’m sure. See the way the torchlight reflects off her eyes? She’s already heard us coming.” 

Sure enough, a pair of eyes shone from the darkened shadows. Hermione felt her heartbeat flutter with excitement; sometimes she thought being friends with Harry had turned her into an adrenalin junkie. Gripping her wand, Hermione ran through the hardest part of the whole plan. 

Being exposed. 

Charlie seemed to understand her hesitance without words. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze of encouragement before slipping away toward Norberta’s hiding spot. He picked his way across the pen slowly, always keeping some boulders between himself and the sick dragon. The crunch of gravel and a snorted cloud of glitter warned him off. 

Knowing she couldn’t wait much longer, Hermione swallowed her discomfort and aimed a steady wand toward the dragon. Closing her eyes, she focused inward. Comfort. The warmth of the sun’s caress in summer. The satisfaction of a heavy belly full from a fresh kill. The relaxation in knowing the others could protect the territory while you sleep. 

Opening her eyes, Hermione hissed into the night. An eerie stream of foggy magic floated from her wand, winding its way toward Norberta. The dragon growled and coughed as it came closer, but she didn't stop casting. Charlie waited, cautiously out of reach in case it failed. 

The light touched Norberta’s snout, a soft pulse traveling across her scales as it took effect. She stilled and grew quiet. 

Charlie didn’t hesitate, unsure of how long this odd hissing would remain in effect. He cast spell after spell on Norberta, his familiarity allowing him to finish the regimen in record time. Not having to pause and dodge angry fire or swipes of a tail helped, of course. 

Hermione found herself drawn toward the now silent dragon. Still focusing on calm thoughts, she hissed gently as she approached. **::Poor thing, you must feel wretched! We’re trying to help you, sweetie, I promise. Charlie just wants to make this hurt go away, and so do I.::**

“Hermione, stay back!” Charlie’s harsh whisper cut across the shrinking space between them. 

Without looking away from Norberta, Hermione moved to his side. She paused to tug on his sleeve, moving them both closer to the alcove than originally discussed. She was relatively certain Charlie only obeyed her wordless command to avoid letting her go in alone. Good. 

**::Now, Norberta. I know you probably don’t understand a word I’m saying, but-::** A small snort interrupted her statement, the dragon’s head tilted to the right as she gazed at Hermione’s approaching form. **::Alright, maybe you do. We’re here to help you, that’s all. We’re not a danger. Charlie here just wants to use some magic-::** Another snort, slightly more hostile, made her pause. **::Oh, love. Wizards are mean, I know. Magic can hurt, but it can heal too. Charlie would never hurt you on purpose. He just wants to make your lungs feel better again. Can you let him help you?::**

At that point, Hermione and Charlie had gotten well within reach of Norberta, closer than was considered wise. When the dragon only settled her head back down onto her curled tail in response to Hermione’s request, she spoke quickly. “Cast whatever you need, but don’t make any sudden movements. She should stay put, I think.” 

“You think?” Charlie sounded incredulous, but he immediately got to the business of mending Norberta’s lungs. The spells he’d been using under Healer Creston were said to work better the closer you could get to your patient. Usually, that meant getting as close to an injured dragon as you could without being in reach; they always took weeks to fully cure an illness. But, in theory, a casting just a few meters from said dragon could work miracles. 

As the spells sunk into Norberta’s skin, Hermione and Charlie both held their breath and prayed for a miracle. 

The night fell silent, the wheezing of the dragon’s lungs suddenly gone. 

“Bloody hell,” Charlie muttered as he realized what they’d done. “Hermione, you’re brilliant.” 

Hermione’s eyes sparkled in the torchlight. “I know.”

* * *

“So, what did you actually do out there?” 

Charlie’s question interrupted the companionable silence of their walk back to his quarters. She glanced at him, not sure what to expect. He didn’t seem upset or uncomfortable with her actions, so she decided to be honest. “That was parselmagic, mostly. I told you, dragon’s aren’t so distantly related to serpents; it was a long shot, but I thought Norberta might understand me.” 

“And the magic bit?” 

Biting her lip, Hermione shrugged and tried to play it off. “I just… the magic made her feel comfortable. Safe. It was like... trying to imagine what a dragon would find peaceful, like a belly full of meat, and then expressing that in parseltongue. But without words, because it’s the feeling that’s actually hissed as you cast… I can’t really explain it.” 

“No, that makes sense.” Charlie grabbed her wrist to stop her from walking away. “Don’t do that, don’t sell yourself short.” 

She searched his eyes for a sign. Had her parseltongue really done nothing to put him off? Only the vampires had accepted her so fully; even Harry had acted so disconcerted to hear her hiss to speak. Hermione nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just used to getting a different reaction from all this.” 

She could swear she heard Charlie mutter something about “bloody idiots” under his breath, but he gave her wrist a tug. “Let’s go check in with Annabelle and Rose.”


End file.
